


Tom Riddle’s Unending Troubles!

by Snowy_Rain



Series: murderous computers [2]
Category: Doki Doki Literature Club! (Visual Novel), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bellatrix is forcing Tom to play the game, Doki Doki Literature Club! Spoilers, Harry is much more impatient than Tom, I have granted their wish, Implied/Referenced Gaslighting, Inspired by Doki Doki Literature Club!, M/M, Mind the Tags, One Shot, Possessive Harry Potter, References to Depression, Roleswap, Sane (?) Tom Riddle, Suicide, This was written because a commentator requested it, You Don't Need To Play The Game To Read This, dating simulator, do not copy to another site, for Ginny, have your bread, like i said before, more like “one shit”, so this is shorter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:15:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21532057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snowy_Rain/pseuds/Snowy_Rain
Summary: Tom stared at the dating simulator’s cover. It was obnoxiously colorful, unnecessarily happy-go-lucky and pink. Pink. So much pink.‘Hogwarts Literature Club!’ the title declared. Right underneath was the summary. Four characters — four routes. Four headaches to deal with.“What the hell is this, Bellatrix?”“I’ll give you my allowance for the next five months if you play this.”——In which the roles are swapped: Harry is the game character who came to life, and Tom is the poor (?) soul who has to deal with him now.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort
Series: murderous computers [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1496492
Comments: 25
Kudos: 347





	Tom Riddle’s Unending Troubles!

**Author's Note:**

> I delivered!!! :D

Tom Riddle was not the type to spend his precious time in front of a screen — more particularly a _computer screen,_ a _game._ They were mere distractions and suitable only for lazy idiots. Lazy idiots who had no other ambition but to spend their lives having fun.

“Are you still planning my death in your head, Tom?” Bellatrix asked him. “Come on, I told you I’d pay you!”

“It still doesn’t make this any less stupid,” Tom answered her. “A _dating simulator_ of all things. Why? Because I hate dating? At least give me a puzzle type.”

She rolled her eyes at his wailing. “It’s just a game. After this you are free to do whatever you want. It doesn’t even last long!”

“Says you.”

“Hush — it’s loading.”

The game looked rather cutesy. Pink background with white polka dots, a small variety of characters. Summarized: A run-of-the-mill dating simulator.

“I’m quite sure I’m going to regret ever playing this,” Tom bemoaned once again. Bellatrix didn’t seem to be listening to him, so he focused his attention on the game menu.

One would have thought that the first thing he did was to start the game — no. Tom was not one of your regular, fun-lover gamers. If he _did_ play a game the first thing he did was visit the settings. Adjusting the controls and enabling-disabling the permissions took priority over the miscellaneous. He was here to _win._

“Wet blanket,” Bellatrix commented.

“Hush, you.”

Sound controls, some accessibility options, and… camera? Microphone?

What the hell were these used for?

“That looks suspicious to me.”

Bella rolled her eyes. “Lighten up. It’s not like your FBI agent isn’t already watching.”

“But who puts _camera permissions_ of all things, in a _dating simulator?”_

“Just play it, Tom!”

Grumbling, he enabled the permissions ~~with something like _fear_ in him~~ and went back to the menu to start.

***

The screen lit up again to reveal a classical suburban house.

“Nice,” Bellatrix said.

“You haven’t even played this before? _Really?”_

“I like to live dangerously, Riddle.”

Soon enough, the first love interest took her place.

Ginny. No surname given. Ginger hair, a face-full of freckles and quite boring eyes. The common _Childhood Sweetheart_ Trope, combined with her utterly lackluster personality disgusted him. Tom wondered why the developers would leave a character so _obviously_ 2D.

“We’re childhood friends, Tom!” she whined, her words as insufferable as her giggle. “The least you could do is wake me up!”

“Aw! Look at her sweet-talking, Tom. She’s so gone on you.”

He merely growled at his companion.

Clicking to forward the dialogue, Tom found himself “guilt-tripped” to join the Literature Club. As if he had to be wrangled and dragged to dabble in his very interest. The personality of the Protagonist left _much_ to be desired.

One by one, he was introduced to one idiotic character after one another. Ginny had been a piece of work, but _these—_

These were _trash._

Luna, the bookworm, laid her reading habits on so _thick_ that it seemed more _obnoxious_ than impressive. Tom was almost compelled to cover his face with his open palm in this cringe-worthy situation.

Draco. Blond like Luna. Had a rather sharp face and a small, unassuming stature.

He was a mythic _bitch._

“I seriously don’t understand what is so great about dating games,” Tom complained to his only listener. “You’d think they try to get people _more_ intrigued by the…”

His voice trailed off.

“Oh my fucking _God,”_ he swore, eyes wide open and incredulous.

“Hello, Tom,” the boy greeted on the screen. “We were in the same class last year. Do you remember me? Harry Potter?”

“Babe, I don’t think I’d ever _forget you.”_

“SO YOU’RE SAYING, YOU TWO-FACED BITCH!” Bellatrix slapped him on the shoulder, rescuing him from his unexplainable mood. “Just now you were lecturing me about stupid otome games!”

“Otome games are female-oriented,” Tom lectured her _actually,_ then. “The Protagonist is female, and they usually involve a harem-plot. Not to mention they are _Japanese_ dating games. This, for example, is not an otome game.”

Bellatrix went near-screeching, clutching at her uncontrollable hair in her outrage.

“You brought this on yourself,” he told her. “You had to take into account that I’d have a change of heart.”

_“I’m not paying you anymore.”_

“Excuse me _we had an agreement, you fucking bitch-“_

***

Harry. Surname Potter. Black hair, soft and _just so shaggy._ His skin looked as though it were weaved by a goddess. His eyes could probably win in a contest of _“Which is the better green — Harry Potter’s eyes or the Gardens of Eden?”_

Harry had a pair of round glasses — _that dear boy, he was blind as a bat without them_ — and a peculiarly shaped scar on his forehead. With the way his hair was situated, only the edges of it appeared — but Tom was quite certain he was on the way to solve this mystery.

Harry seemed to favor baggy clothes with neutral colors, with the exception of his tie which had a pinkish sticker adhered to it. Tom had yet to see the image clearly, it was so damn _small,_ but maybe it would be clearer on a special character image?

But then…

_But then._

“Wait a minute,” Tom said after a few tries of choosing words in the mini-game. “This isn’t right.”

Yes. This was, most certainly, _not right._ Where the fuck was Harry’s chibi?

No, seriously. _Where the fuck was Harry’s chibi?_

And then the bomb dropped right on his mental faculties.

“All the other love prospects have a chibi and a word category they will react to,” Tom quickly reviews. “But then—“

But then it left Harry _out._

“No, that — _it can’t be._ Come on. You can’t just make a character, put so much work into it and then _leave it to rot._ That’s absurd. It goes _against_ the rules of dating games!”

Calm down, Tom. It’s alright. Surely he was — _a hidden route, maybe?_ For the truly worthy?

“The game is _on,_ Mrs Hudson. I’m coming for Harry’s booty.”

***

This was harder than he imagined it would be.

Harry’s option was only permitted during poem-reading times. The other times, only the options with other characters remained. This _did_ complicate matters. How was he supposed to collect affection points for Harry, otherwise?

_But_ , he admitted. _Maybe the points and alone times aren’t the issue here._

What if—

_What if the camera and microphone permissions applied in this instance?_

An experiment then, Tom decided with butterflies in his stomach. Just to be sure.

“Oh, hello, Tom,” Harry greeted him warmly. Tom smiled back at him even though Harry couldn’t see the response. ~~Or could he?~~

“Hello, Harry,” Tom drawled out adoringly. “How would you like to read my poem? I made it just for you, with lots of _love_ in it.”

On the next click, Harry’s facial expression had sufficiently darkened, darkened with _a hot red blush._

“You’re looking excited today,” Harry mumbled hurriedly. Almost stuttering, “Let’s read the poem now? Uh — shall we?”

“Your attempts at eloquence are amusing,” Tom smirked at his flustered face. “But they are adorable. You are free to do as you wish.”

In the next scene, Harry’s face grew _even redder._

“This is — This is very cool,” Harry blurted our then flushed. “What I mean is — it’s really convoluted, I think. There’re words with unclear meanings in it, some used metaphorically but the reader _can’t understand_ if it’s _meant to be_ metaphorical. Rather, you play with words, then let them wonder the meaning. You seem to like watching people _flounder_ , Tom.”

Harry’s blush had faded away in his tirade, but _Tom’s_ face had adopted that very same disposition. Face burning up, he stood up suddenly and left to get a glass of iced water.

_What a fucking smart-ass, what a sassy brat, what a—_

_What a_ **_charming_ ** _motherfucker._

***

When he returned and clicked forward, Harry had grinned at him in triumph.

“You were silent for a long time. I suppose you don’t like being taken apart, _Tom?”_ he had teased as Tom felt his blood rush back to his cheeks. “What a shame. We are all here in the Literature Club for this very reason, I’m afraid. Why don’t we continue?”

This _motherfucker._

This _cute_ motherfucker.

***

For a long time, Tom remained suspicious of the settings. They creeped him out, as did the coincidences of his and Harry’s dialogue — but he didn’t want to question it too much. Technology was improving every day. It would not be far off to think Bellatrix had chosen this game _because_ it had a very good AI conversation system.

~~He wanted to believe. He wanted to be blind. He did not want to feel scared and _helpless._~~

But the options stayed the same. Harry’s route did not start.

However, the one progression in the plot Tom noted was that _he seemed to be on Luna’s route right now._ The least troubling love prospect, yes, but still unpreferable to Harry’s lovely presence.

He liked their conversations, he supposed. She was not an unintelligent girl — just desperate to find a friend to show it. She spewed a lot of things, but he guessed that was the Protagonist’s fault for encouraging her. 

Luna. Surname still unknown. Light blonde hair and tall frame. Well-endowed, he thought, but antisocial. She would have been a popular girl, had she learnt to use her sophisticated charm. Tom felt a bit of pity for her, for her resemblance to the boy he once had been.

But that boy was gone.

Luna had to change as well.

Hah. Look at him getting all philosophical and _humane_ over dating simulator characters. The game must be messing with his head.

Continuing—

Draco was _still_ a bitch. The boy was what one would call a _Tsundere —_ someone who seemed hateful but was actually _very loving_ — yeah, _not._ Tom honestly did not think Draco was able to host any loving emotion in his body. The boy was simply a typical high school freshman.

Tom _hated_ freshmen.

But _Harry_ — _ah, his Harry_ — simply delightful. The boy had a sassy streak a mile wide, in which Tom practically _reveled_ in. Who would have expected that handsome boy to have a temper? Tom was almost _in love —_ or, as close to the emotion as he could be.

Harry had begun acting strange, however.

“Your poems are very good, Tom,” Harry said. “Are you writing them with — with a purpose in mind? You always see me first. I _do_ like talking to you, mind, but aren’t you missing the others?”

“What the _fuck,_ Harry?” Tom asked aloud. “Here I am trying to _woo_ you and you want me to end up with a 2D moron? For _shame.”_

Harry went pink. “Don’t get me wrong, Tom — I _told_ you, I _like_ talking with you! It’s just that… I don’t know if I could — if I—“

His dialogue suddenly cut off, then after a quick farewell, Tom was back to the character options.

“... _What_ just happened?” he muttered and picked Luna.

There was no point in dawdling on spilt milk. But Tom would figure this problem out, _mark his words._

_***_

Harry’s mood seemed to have worsened in the last few “days.” (Since it was only an hour.)

He still put up a smile, that dear boy, but Tom saw through him like plexiglass. He knew the contours of that fake turn of lips, knew the intricate pulling of the muscles to imitate a lifelike-statue. This wasn’t Harry’s smile.

This was _Tom’s_. Harry was troubled by something Tom did not know.

On another interesting note, Ginny had started looking sickly recently. Once, the Protagonist had tried confronting her without any success. _Harry_ had been the one to pull him aside.

“She’s… Let’s say she’s in a bit of a bad mood,” Harry had explained so gently. “She’s going through some stuff that bothers her.”

“But what does that have to do with me? I just wanted to help!” the Protagonist had told him.

Yes. The character _was_ dense as fuck. Thanks for asking. So dense he could not even realize Ginny had the longest-crush-ever on him.

Then Harry had smiled — so _condescending,_ Tom was almost feeling proud. Then he had said, with a shake of his head, “I thought you’d be smarter than this, but whatever. I’m sure you’ll figure it out one day.”

“Oh, I _know,”_ Tom had complained. “He’s a dumb-ass, isn’t he, Harry?”

Harry’s gentle smile had turned a bit mocking then, and Tom had never seen anything so beautiful. ~~The reaction _terrified him._~~

***

A festival. A bloody, honest-to-god _festival._

“You’re still playing the game?” Bellatrix asked, somehow doubtful. “I didn’t think you’d like it so much.”

“You’re still paying me.”

“Aw.”

“Anyway,” Tom steered the conversation back on track. “The game is getting interesting. Did you know that this has a fully-functional AI conversationalist? And speech recognition? _And_ a face scanner?”

“What the actual _fuck?”_

Tom acknowledged her words with a tilt of his head. “Yes, very much so. It all seems very fishy to me. What actual game requires so much heavy-software to deliver a satisfying story? I am currently moving with the assumption that Harry is a hidden route, but what if that’s not so? What if I’m actually having my data transferred to a super secret laboratory deep in Pentagon?”

“I…” Bellatrix paused and stared at him in a very disturbed fashion. “I don’t think you know what the Pentagon is.”

“It doesn’t matter. The _real_ issue is that _this game is hiding something,_ whether it’s Harry’s elusive route or something more… _sinister.”_

“You and your conspiracy theories, Riddle.”

“I do try. Now get out of the apartment. Go for a walk or something. Don’t you have a date?”

She shrugged. “Granger cancelled. She said she _just_ learned of a pop quiz for tomorrow. Bloody nerd.”

“From my earlier witnessings, you _like_ that nerd.”

“I _know._ It’s horrible.”

Tom nodded but kept going. This arc seemed strange. What was up with this tense air? Ginny had gone home earlier that day, for her “ _sickness.”_ Harry was trying to keep the club together with little success, even though he was obviously working so hard to come off as cheerful.

“What is happening now?” Bella asked.

“A festival. We need to find a way to recruit more members for our club, but for that we need to delegate tasks. Also — Ginny, the redhead is currently absent for an odd reason.”

“An odd reason?”

Tom shrugged. “It certainly wasn’t because of her sudden flu.”

Click after click, the dialogue moved in the same gaudy pink box. Tom’s eyes were sick of the color.

“We must gather everyone!” Harry announced. “All of us must join in the effort! Like they say: No pain, no gain. Now — Draco. Can you bake us cupcakes? They’d sell really well!”

The boy preened like a peacock, “Of course.”

“And Luna… Um, you could… make a banner?”

“Yeah!” the Protagonist exclaimed. “You’re very good at arts! We would definitely win!”

“Ah, well,” she stammered. “Alright!”

“And Ginny…” Harry trailed off, a frown on his eyebrows. “I think she can use the rest. Let’s not put too much pressure on her like this.”

“Agreed.”

“She’s been working hard.”

Bellatrix scoffed. “What a load of bull.”

Harry’s dialogue continued, now addressing the player, “And you, Tom? Would you like to… _help one of us?_ We could use a helping hand.”

Tom’s jaw dropped.

“Oh my God.” He swiveled in his chair to face Bellatrix. “Oh my _God.”_

“Oh my God,” she repeated, dumbstruck. “Damn, son; with posture like that I _bet_ he has a nice ass. Weren’t you fawning over him since the start?”

_“Oh my God, Bellatrix this is not the time!_ Look at the fucking _options!_ That’s his name, his very own name! It’s right there and waiting for me! _Me!”_

“Yeah, congrats, now can you just—“

“I’m on my way—“

He pressed _‘Harry’_ and waited, patiently and accompanied with an enormous anticipation.

“Oh! He chose me!” Harry declared like a cat on cream, voice pleased and marshmallow-smooth. “Okay, so then—“

“Wait a minute,” Luna protested. “Aren’t you _hogging_ him?”

_“Hogging_ him? What do you mean?”

Draco nodded his agreement. “She’s right, you know. You’re taking him for — what, making pamphlets? Waivers? That’s like calling a helper to turn on the lights. We need much more help than you!”

“Tasks you were _happy_ to tackle alone just a minute before, might I add,” Harry spoke but his words went from one ear and slipped from the other.

I’m the end, there were only three options left.

“...I need time to calm down and prevent my Hulk Mode,” Tom informed Bellatrix.

“Of course. I’ll take over for you until then.”

***

The result was a twenty minute long “walk”, in which he went to that alleyway and screamed his hearts out while punching cardboard boxes.

“Hey!” came from one of the boxes, twitching as if it were alive. “Tha’s my _house_ yer kickin’ mate!”

“Do I _care?”_ Tom asked the decrepit old man. _He_ was still young, wild, and full of unresolved sexual and emotional tension. “You are the one who chose to live in a murder alley.”

_“Hey,_ the prices are real cheap! Don’t ‘cha judge me, brat!”

“I’m bored of this.” Tom turned on his heels and left for home.

***

“How’s the route going?” he asked as he crossed the threshold.

“Welcome back! Did you know that the redhead has crippling depression?”

Tom paused in the middle of his shoe-discarding and reorganized his information.

Ginny. No surname. Ginger with an overabundance of freckles. ~~Shitty personality.~~ Debilitating depression. Might connected to the Protagonist’s obliviousness? A selfless girl trying to do the best for her friend and their friendship.

Well — no one could say that wasn’t cliche, but it wasn’t overly cliche at least. She could have been a _Mary Sue._ She could have been a _frisky type._ This was much more preferable.

Finishing up, he nodded his acknowledgment and continued where he left off.

“So since you were absent, I tried out the other options. One had Ginny so I wondered — what’s so special about her? I clicked but Harry told me she was unwell.”

“Of course. Harry is close friends with the girl. He wouldn’t send the source of her problems back to her.”

“Then I chose Luna because she has big titties.”

“...Bella.” Tom covered his face with his hand. “Would it _kill you_ to refer to them as _breasts?_ Or even _boobs?_ Must you say _titties_ to everything?”

“I really, _really must.”_

“Get the fuck out of that seat.”

As she scrambled off, he plopped himself right on the soft cushion. He wriggled a bit to get comfortable, sighing at the warmth.

If Harry _really_ wasn’t a hidden route and — and just a supporting character, then Tom would be content to just watch.

He didn’t mind. 

Harry was — Harry was _wonderful._ He was beautiful, like the way a book on the anatomy of amputation was beautiful; he was witty and fun in a way Tom could never be without forcing it. But most of all, Harry had a smile so _sweet,_ angels could cry. Hell, _Tom_ could cry.

He kind of wanted to cry at this moment, to be frank.

He clicked on, going on and on and _on_ — until…

Ugh.

Kissing scene.

Luna, all cozying up in the Protagonist’s space, seemed very pleased with herself. Tom leaned a bit back, if only to give himself the illusion of escaping his fate.

“Tom,” she whispered _oh so breathily_ and the man in question made a disgusted sound.

Then she — jumped back out of the blue, and _Ginny the fucking depression girl_ found him together with her love rival.

“Ah,” he intoned and tried to ride out the wave.

***

The next morning brought an ominous silence.

Tom, befuddled, opened the settings to check the music. Yet, he found it as fresh as it was back when he started the game. This could not be right. 

Just to make sure his sound system hadn’t given an error, he played something from the Internet; but there were no issues. Everything was satisfactory.

Except for the music itself.

It wasn’t like it had a particular charm, Tom thought to himself. He was currently waiting for Ginny to accompany him to school. It was merely that… the song had been a fixed variable in the game, ever since the beginning. Lighthearted, dulcet notes of the piano. Who _didn’t_ feel lightened when they listened to it?

It was just gone. Like a fart in the wind. (He didn’t think this was the time to wake jokes, but he felt like he _needed it.)_

~~This was giving him the creeps.~~

“Oh, well,” the Protagonist sighed at last, tired of waiting for her. “Guess I’ll just go without her today.”

The character agonized over his decision the whole walk, so it was quite annoying to Tom’s ears. When he reached the school, he was greeted promptly by his lovely Harry.

“Hi, Tom!” he said, cheeks flushed and out of breath. What was up with his state? “Um… _hi.”_

Raising an eyebrow, Tom smiled at him. “Hi to you too. What’s up with you this fine morning, my dear?”

“Ginny called me about what happened yesterday, by the way,” he continued without minding Tom’s question. “You—“

Harry bit his lip, then gave a sheepish look. “You kind of left her hanging this morning, you know. You two always come together.”

“I know,” the Protagonist answered him. “I’m just so tired of waking her up! That dummy should be more responsible!”

Tom slapped his forehead. “You two-brain-cell waste of _human existence,_ that very girl has severe depression and _you know it._ Why the hell are you still treating her like she’s the dirt under your shoe?”

“I’d be gentler with her, Tom,” Harry told his character. “She’s always been delicate. And to hear this from the boy she likes — that would have devastated her, you know!”

“Sorry, sorry,” the character apologized.

Harry continued, “Ginny sent a new poem this morning, by the way.”

_This morning?_

The _very_ morning she did not wake up to walk to school with them?

She must have been grieving her broken heart. ~~Was he saying this to bring peace of mind to himself?~~

“Can I look at it?” the dialogue went on.

“By all means. It’s right on the desk.”

But—

_The letter itself was—_

**_Bone-chilling._ **

  
  


_‘Get out of my head,’_ the poem chanted. _‘Get out of my head. Get out of my head. Get out of my head.’_

A continuous litany of _‘Get out of my head’,_ begging and ripping itself up with its own desperation, the tone of the meaning darkening with each repeating call for help.

_‘Get._

_Out._

_Of._

_My._

_Head.’_

_‘Get out of my head before I do what I know is best for you._

_Get out of my head before I listen to everything he said to me._

_Get out of my head before I show you how much I love you._

_Get out of my head before I finish writing this poem.’_

  
  
  
  
  


_‘But a poem is never actually finished.’_

  
  


**_‘It just stops moving.’_ **

  
  


“What the _fuck_ is this, Harry?” Tom demanded, hands shaking, face frozen like a statue, shoulders taut. “I swear, what the fuck, _what the fuck—“_

“I — I changed my mind,” the Protagonist declared. “I’m going to check up on her.”

“Oh?” Harry hummed, the kind smile never leaving his face. _Did he not know what the poem had written? Even though it was sent directly to him? Left discarded right on top of the desk?_

**_What the actual fuck are you doing, Harry?_ **

“Well, see you later then. _Do_ come back before the festival starts!”

_Fuck you and your festival._

In a few scene-transitions, Tom was finally at Ginny’s home.

The setting was silent.

Shifting in his chair, Tom was suddenly reminded of how _empty_ his and Bellatrix’s apartment was. The far corners looked a bit shadowed, if he thought about it. The curtains were drawn, as it was the evening, but it only made the room seem… _like a trap._

“Get over your paranoia, Riddle,” he ridiculed himself. “This is a dating simulator. So the music gave an error — and? This will — This will probably be some kind of _save the damsel from her depression and be happy forever and ever_ kind of scenario.”

The ceiling creaked.

“For sure.”

Bellatrix had found _just the time to leave the apartment,_ hadn’t she?

“Ginny?” The Protagonist called. “Open the door dummy.”

No response.

“No other chance,” the dialogue box read. “I go in through the door and climb up the stairs. Her room’s door is closed. I suppose she’s gone back to sleep? Or maybe she’s crying under her covers?”

“Sure,” Tom spoke out loud. “That sounds reasonable. Come on, go _check on her.”_

“I knock on the door, but she doesn’t respond. I have no other choice. I gently open the door—“

**_GINNY’S HANGING BODY SWIVELED IN THE SCREEN, SIDE TO THE SIDE — HER EYES WERE OPEN AND STARING STRAIGHT AT HIM AND HER HANDS STOOD BLOODIED._ **

**_Ginny and her noose._ **

The screen blacked out.

Tom sat frozen, heart beating madly against his ribcage and his hands gripping the seat’s handles tight. He fished for his tissues on the corner with a shaking hand and cleaned his face, his neck, and wrists. Then they went to the trash bin.

From his phone, he rang Bellatrix.

No response.

He stood in silence, still shivering and still seated firmly.

**_The screen sizzled back on._ **

“Hi!” Harry appeared right at the front, jump-scaring Tom’s heart into speeding once more. “Ah, I didn’t want you to see that—“

“Maybe,” Tom started, breaths becoming stilted. _“Maybe_ you should have thought this through, before you started _killing your friends.”_

“Friends?” Harry echoed, bemused. “They aren’t my friends, Tom. Surely you know that?”

“You—“ A sharp intake. “You aren’t denying it.”

“You’re clever, Tom. I really love that. Yeah, I — let’s just say I _deleted_ them because that’s what happened.”

“ _Deleted—“_

“Ginny’s was a bad idea, I _know.”_ Harry talked as if he was talking about his kindergarten shenanigans. “I tried out gaslighting, but it was awfully high-maintenance. For one, it gave you the time to _sympathize_ with them — which shouldn’t have happened in the first place. We wouldn’t be here having this conversation right now, then. If only I had gotten rid of them before your opinions changed…”

“You’re _crazy.”_

“I’m not!” Harry protested. “Just — I’m just _in love with you!_ You _have_ to believe me, Tom! It’s not about whether I like _killing or not,_ because this isn’t it! It’s a lot less complicated. It’s cleaner and it doesn’t leave any traces. And it _does_ distance you from the act in a way. That’s why I was able to do it.”

Ruffling his hair, running away the perspiration on his forehead, Tom tried to get his thoughts organized. “You killed everyone else because you _love_ me.”

“I — I do.”

“Stop making this sound like marriage vows. Firstly: This is unethical. This is hideous and this should not be done. Not _ever_ . Because they were still _human_ in your own software. So don’t think you haven’t killed anyone, because you did. You killed humans whom you share an algorithm with.”

“I—“ Harry looked close to crying. “—did everything for _you.”_

“No. You did these to _have_ me. There’s a difference, Harry. I…”

Tom wasn’t sure if he wanted to _reveal_ his feelings like this, because Harry was sure to guilt-trip him. 

But…

For all his shock, for all his arguments, Tom _did_ want Harry to stay.

He _did_ love Harry.

And who said he wasn’t selfish?

“But I love you, Harry,” Tom professed as he caressed the pixels. “I love you. I will ignore this slight mistake because I love you. Do you understand me?”

Harry nodded, tears gathering in his eyes.

“None of that,” Tom soothed. “There, I _love_ you. What more could you want? What _else_ could you want? Would you like to hear about my stories? The stories about my college? It’ll calm you down.”

“...Okay.”

_Tom was in Harry’s trap._

**_But Harry was in Tom’s too._ **


End file.
